


establishing dominance

by Zekkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Fantastic Racism, Fear Play, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Predacon!Optimus, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: The premise: in an intolerant Cybertron, Predacons are seen as little more than mechanimals, hardly sentient.Optimus, in this Cybertron, is a young but up-and-coming Predacon, out to prove himself by succeeding at the Academy and eventually attaining the rank of Prime. He's accomplished a miracle simply by getting admitted.His roommate, naturally, is Sentinel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "I want to write Optimus/Sentinel," I said to myself, and asked my dear friend, "what kink should I write?"
> 
> I received a short list. Upon this list was vore.
> 
> CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. EVEN IF I HAD TO MAKE UP AN AU WHERE OPTIMUS IS A BIG DRAGON INSTEAD OF A FIRE TRUCK.
> 
> also apologies in advance for the bit at the beginning and Sentinel in general, he is SUCH A JERK I wish to punt him into the sun, but unfortunately he looks really pretty undone by Optimus.

"Be careful around your roommate," says Redfront as he finishes processing Sentinel's forms. "You're the lucky mech who drew the Predacon."

Sentinel's optics flicker as his finial raise in surprise. "Since when do we admit mechanimals to the Academy?"

"Since this semester," says Redfront, adjusting his glasses as he retrieves the keycard and holds it out to Sentinel. "I'm supposed to advise you to refrain from using that language around the student, but just between you and me, the sooner it flunks out the better for all of us."

Sentinel nods, taking the card and leaning against the counter, head tilted down towards Redfront.

"You know, you're right," he says, and winks. "I'll do what I can to help speed matters along."

He walks away, studying the keycard in his hand, thinking furiously. Whoever or whatever this Predacon thinks it is, he'll show it where it belongs - after all, it's just one stepping stone on his way through the Academy.

//

Sentinel flicks his card over the panel by the door, and walks into his dorm without any preamble, subspacing it as he looks around, already deciding that he wants the best bunk in the place, and that he's going to get it.

Inside is a fairly spacious room, with a set of bunks on the left and two desks on the right, the standard Academy dorm configuration, meant to encourage studiousness and austerity. Inside is also a mech far bigger than Sentinel's ever seen before, except for the largest shuttle mechs and obviously cityformers and the like.

It's hunched a little to avoid banging its helm on the ceiling, and it has a tail that twitches as it turns to face him. It's a red and blue mech with glowing blue optics - not that it makes Sentinel feel any better.

 _This_ is his roommate?

"Hello," it says, and Sentinel's optics flicker again.

"You can _talk?"_

"...Did you expect me to communicate in growls?"

"...Well, you're a Predacon! Of course you're not supposed to talk!" Sentinel snaps, walking closer and poking the monster in its stomach. "Listen up, you, I'm going to tell you how it works now that you're living in my room. I've got _rules_ and you're going to obey all of them or I'll have you thrown out of here in a nanoklik!"

The monster crouches, staring him in the face with its deceptively normal-looking optics, and Sentinel smugly notes that its field is off - likely to hide its fear.

"The first rule - " He starts, laying out his plan for securing the top bunk, how he gets the desk closest to the door, how he's in charge of when the lights are turned on and off so he doesn't get trapped in the dark, how - 

"... I don't think so," says the monster.

"What?"

"What's your name?" The monster leans a little closer, and Sentinel tries not to shudder as its optics deform, turning strange and slitted. He swears he can hear it hiss at him, or growl, or something - but he won't flinch, he refuses to show weakness here.

"Sentinel, soon to be Prime! What's it to you?"

"My name is Optimus," says the monster. "And until we both graduate and gain ranks, we're both equals. I'm looking forward to being your rival, because I'm going to become a Prime."

"You have to be joking! Come on, _you_ a Prime? Who's going to follow a mechanimal's orders? It's ludicrous! They'd be much better suited following my orders, and - "

The monster doesn't break optic-contact as it transforms, face distorting into that of a beast's with a horrid snout and ridiculously ornate horns, and it's not like Sentinel can see the rest of it from this angle - just those suddenly huge optics and ridiculously strange face - 

Optimus opens his mouth and whip-quick picks up Sentinel, fangs digging into Sentinel's ankles as he shouts, suddenly dangling upside down _in his mouth._

"What the frag! Let me down! Frag! Let me down! That's an order! An _order!"_

Nothing happens, as Optimus tilts his head further back, letting Sentinel sway and bump into the back of his mouth, optics glowing bright as his headlights turn on, and oh - oh frag that's a long gullet - 

"I am not a mechanimal," Optimus says, tone patient, field now on - and simmering with unrestrained rage. Sentinel flinches, bumping into Optimus' mouth as he does, ankles hurting as giant dentae dig into him - "My name is Optimus, and I am not going to tolerate being treated as if I weren't sentient. Do you understand?"

Silence. Sentinel works his vents, still staring into that long dark drop. The fear's working through him, and with it - 

His engine revs as he twists in Optimus' hold, trying to reach up to reach those fangs and pull himself out. He is _not_ pathetic, or perverted, or _anything_ deviant - 

"...Are you running a charge?" asks Optimus, and Sentinel closes his optics.

If he acknowledges it, it's real and he's really hanging in a Predacon's mouth like he's just some tiny morsel, ready to be eaten like any petrorabbit, so pathetic he could hardly be admitted into the Academy, and he'll be thrown out back into the sector he crawled out of with all of his dreams in tatters - 

"No," he says through gritted dentae.

"It's okay if you are," Optimus says. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Like frag you will!" Sentinel says, jerking - one of his legs drops out of Optimus' fangs and he yells, waving his arms frantically and grabbing onto the nearest available handhold - Optimus' glossae.

It's slippery and insecure, but when Optimus loses his hold on his other ankle - it's all he has as he hangs on for dear life, kicking his feet as he tries to find some kind of purchase, rubbing his panels up against Optimus' glossae - 

"Stop - stop wiggling!" Optimus says, and abruptly the whole world tilts, dropping Sentinel out the front of Optimus' mouth - and he lands on the floor, dazed and covered in fluids.

Optimus transforms, kneeling by his side - and he must be able to feel how high his charge is from how close he is, and how embarrassed and angry thanks to his field - Sentinel glares up at him, then just takes a swing at him - and his wrist is caught in one strong grip.

"Please listen to me," Optimus says, catching his other wrist. "I want to make a deal with you."

"I don't make deals with - "

Optimus growls, for real this time, low and deep and terrifying - and Sentinel's spike panel pops open.

Silence, then, but for the strained rumbling from both of their engines. Optimus slowly glances down at his spike, and back at his face.

"...Do you get off on being afraid?" Optimus asks.

"Frag off," Sentinel says in a strained whisper.

"...Do you want me to...do anything about that?"

Sentinel stares up at his new roommate and doesn't know if he wants to nod or deck him. A klik stretches out as he wrestles with his offense, with his anger, with his fear, with the way his spike is throbbing, aching to be touched by someone with claws who isn't afraid of him - 

Optimus carefully stretches his arms out and pins his wrists above his head, then puts a hand over Sentinel's mouth.

"Yes or no: do I do anything to help with your charge? I promise that whatever happens I won't ever tell anyone about this."

Sentinel shudders, engine whining...but he nods, optics slipping shut.

The hand moves, and wraps around his spike, jerking it in slow strokes as Sentinel pushes his hips into the hand, groaning softly. It's been so - so long - 

His optics open before he can think about it, because he wants - he doesn't want - he needs to see Optimus' face, take in the way he's looking at Sentinel like he's fragile, like he's pathetic - 

Sentinel whines, squirming in Optimus' grip, struggling not to overload too quickly because that would be truly pathetic - 

But Optimus looks from his spike to his face and back again, and that stings something _just_ right - 

He overloads with a shout, going limp in Optimus' hold, overwhelmed and filthy and ruined.

Optimus lets go of his wrists and spike, and he'll probably get up and use Sentinel's plating as a place to wipe off the fluids before he leaves him to crawl to the washracks in full view of the entire Acadamy - 

"This might be weird," Optimus tells him. "But I think it's better than walking to the washracks like that. Hold still."

He transforms, and crouches over Sentinel, who's stuck staring at him as he's licked clean, that broad glossae easily covering his entire thigh, then panels, then torso - Sentinel shudders, as it's still too soon to run a charge, but it feels _good._

Optimus tilts his head to look at him, optics...amused? Sentinel looks away, and Optimus transforms again, pulling a cloth out of his subspace and using it to wipe away the rest of the mess.

Once he's done, he picks Sentinel up and holds him close to his chest, and Sentinel wants to protest that he's not a sparkling, he's not weak, he doesn't need this - but he doesn't, for once mute as he's carried to the top bunk and settled into it.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Optimus says. "It's more comfortable for me, but be careful that you don't step on me when you need to go out. Okay?"

Sentinel nods, mute, still absorbing what's just happened.

"Okay," Optimus says, and he smiles, a little hesitant, trying to be reassuring - not that it really works, but he leaves it like that, transforming and settling on the floor like some kind of oversized pet.

...Not that he is, now. Sentinel slowly rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the new ache in his valve - _frag_ but he won't be able to recharge without dreaming of how big Optimus' spike probably is.


End file.
